


let us live our lives without a doubt

by fairysquadmother



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, aaaaaand some jack/holster snuggles because i'm a weak bitch, kent parson's extensional knowledge of the Void, soft and tender kissing on the mouth, soft bros doing soft bro things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7327051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairysquadmother/pseuds/fairysquadmother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the weekend of Kent Parson's birthday, Eric Bittle throws a fuckin' rager, Jack Zimmermann can't face the past, and Ransom and Holster step up to become the future.</p>
<p>all credits in regard to the hockey webcomic Check, Please! belong to Ngozi</p>
            </blockquote>





	let us live our lives without a doubt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts).



> OKAY ITS FIVE AM AND I CAN SEE SOUNDS SO THANKS MAX AND ELLIE FOR BETAING AND THE WHOLE KVP GROUPCHAT FOR HELPING ME REALIZE MY DREAM OF BECOMING THE LIVING DEAD IN THE FORM OF A GAY HOCKEY PORN WRITER

It was the Fourth of July, and somehow, Bitty had managed to pull all of his favors and get the entirety of the Samwell Hockey Team out to his family home in Georgia to throw a parentally-ordained, three-day-long rager. Holster had two cases of beer underneath each arm, while Ransom was unloading grocery bags full of twisted shots and shooter bottles. Lardo had been back and forth to get the handles of hard liquor herself; she didn’t trust  _ sober _ Ransom and Holster to carry twenty-five bottles of expensive booze all the way to Bitty’s childhood home without breaking at least three. That was fair, and Holster bore no grudge or animosity. 

“Bro, Spiderman comes out next week,” Ransom said, reaching up to swipe the back of his hand across his forehead. “Wanna do a movie-dinner date?”

“How ‘bout a movie-lunch-nap-before-work date?” Holster leaned down to catch Ransom’s mouth with his own. “On Wednesday: that way, you're nice and relaxed for your test, and I won't kill anybody at the office.” 

Ransom smiled, the dimple in his cheek popping out and sending little flutters through Holster’s stomach. “A perfect plan. I knew I kept you around for some reason.” 

“You mean other than my charm, looks, and rapier wit? Also, I made you cum three times in one night last week, so that's gotta count for something.” Holster hoisted the cases of beer a little higher on his hips. “Come on, these are heavy, and if you kiss me again, we might have to skip the first night.”

Rolling his eyes longsufferingly, Ransom made a point to smack another sloppy kiss on Holster’s lips and then hurried off towards the house.

Holster smiled to himself, shifting his arm free to hit the trunk close button, then headed after his boyfriend.

Jack was in a bad kind of way when they found him, which, considering that he was on Bitty’s time, not only meant that this panic attack was all of a sudden, but that it was very recent. All either of them could get out of Jack was that it was in fact about Kent Parson showing up. Jack had apparently took one look at Parse, who was bubbling and all happy-excited to be here, and shut down. Fortunately, Ransom and Holster were with him, and they were well-versed in the ways of handling Jack Zimmermann launched in the throes of an unexpected panic attack. 

Immediately at Jack’s side, Ransom sort of touched two fingers to Jack’s shoulder in a silent question, and when Jack relaxed into him, he dropped the sack of beer on the kitchen table and pulled him close. “Want us to kick him out?” Ransom asked, eyebrows furrowed. He had his hand on the back of Jack’s neck now, which was something Holster always did when  _ Ransom _ was the one having the panic attack. 

Jack was gulping down oxygen like he'd almost drowned. “No….” he gasped. “No, it's his birthday. It's his birthday. I invited him.” He looked up at Holster, eyes filling up with tears. “It's his birthday.” 

“Okay, Jay, you're okay. You want Bitty? I'm gonna go get Bitty. Holster, stay with him, make sure he's breathing right.” Ransom stood up, pushing Jack into Holster’s lap. “He's right outside.” 

Holster tucked Jack’s face into his shoulder, stroking his hair in slow little circles at the nape of his neck. “You gonna tell me why you invited your ex to a big ol’ party on his birthday and then freaked out when he actually showed up?” 

Jack shook his head and choked on a sob. Holster didn’t press it. He just kept Jack in his arms, focusing on tracing the gentlest of patterns into his skin and keeping his breath even for Jack to match. 

The whole time they waited on Ransom to return with Bitty, Jack cried. It wasn’t the first time they’d ever been in this situation, but it was the first time Holster didn’t know why Jack was upset in the first place. He did figure it had something to do with Parse--especially since Jack had simply taken a glance at him before launching into hysterics. 

Really, Holster had always been good at this kind of thing. He’d dealt with anxiety his whole life; with his older sister, then Ransom, and now, in an entirely new way, with Jack Zimmermann. In some ways, he was learning entirely new methods of helping someone cope with panic attacks. With Jack, it was a base-level  _ I’msafehe’ssafewe’resafe _ sort of instinctive protection. The worst thing that could happen at this point would be Kent Parson walking through Bitty’s front door, probably just looking for the john, and Jack maybe quite literally spontaneously combusting.

Holster was glad for Ransom’s return, even gladder to see Bitty’s worried little face peeping over Ransom’s shoulder. “Hey, L’il Bits. We have a mighty need for your soft touch over here.” 

Bitty crouched down to sit next to Holster, unflinchingly reaching out to smooth his hand through Jack’s hair. “Heya, baby.” His eyes were so painfully soft it made Holster’s chest hurt. “I’m here now, I’m sorry I couldn’t come any faster.”

Jack shuddered, and Holster felt it with his whole body. “I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he murmured, voice breaking on the apology. “It’s not him. I swear it’s not his fault.”

“Shh, shh. Come here to me, let’s go lay down for a minute.” Bitty helped Jack out of Holster’s lap, wrapping an arm around Jack’s waist and tucking him into his side. “Boys, can you do me a favor?” He looked up at Jack, who was very adamantly hiding his face. “Can you go out there and make sure Mr. Parson has himself a nice birthday?”

Ransom looked at Holster, who just smiled reassuringly. 

“Sure, Bits,” Holster replied. “We got it covered.”

\---

In summation, the party was a fucking blast. Ransom didn’t know any other way to explain it. Some people were here just to party, others were here to see Kent, but either way, there was cake, tequila, and a lot of inappropriate dancing in an open field in the middle of a hot, Georgian summer.

First kegstand of the night had to obviously go to the man himself, and, like the gracious beauty he was, Kent Parson hoisted himself up and chugged like a motherfucker while Holster and Ransom held his legs. “Guys,  _ guys _ ,” he laughed, when he finished and Ransom threw him over his shoulder. “I’m not that drunk yet--I can still walk.”

“Aw,” Holster said, grinning. “I think we can handle the Princess Treatment for one night. You only turn twenty-six once.” 

Kent groaned, hiding his blushing face in his hands. “Don’t even remind me. I’m over a quarter century old.” He yipped a little bit when Ransom set him down on his feet. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Dex and Nursey came by with a bucket full of Smirnoff and some shots for Parse to do. “From the  _ family _ ,” Nursey insisted, which sort of made them sound like the Mafia or something, but Ransom definitely knew that nobody they knew was cool enough to be in any kind of gang. 

Kent really seemed to take it into stride, which was weird in itself, but Ransom surrounded himself with weird people in general, so he figured no harm, no foul. 

It was a little stunning, to watch Kent throw back all that liquor and then lick it off of his lips. Ransom wanted a taste, mostly just to see how soft Kent’s lips would be on his own.

Holster cracked open a bottle of Blue Curaçao and took a few slugs. “I think,” he said, gripping Ransom’s shoulder. “That we should show Kent the guest room Bitty so nicely set up for us.” 

“Guest room?” Kent asked, watching Holster look him up and down. “I don't know if I'm tired just yet.” 

Ransom flashed his one dimple and hooked his finger in Kent’s belt loop to pull him closer. “Baby boy, who said anything about sleep?”

Kent gasped when he pressed up against Ransom’s chest. His pupils blew out a little bit, showing off how much he was on board with this. 

“So,” murmured Holster. “Officially offering, here.”

Kent just replied with a kiss. He stood on his tiptoes and melted into the line of Ransom’s side. Looping his arms around Ransom’s neck to brace himself, Kent kissed like he was afraid of being told no. 

“I'm gonna take care of the kiddos real quick,” Holster murmured against Ransom’s ear. “Put ‘em to bed. Make sure Lardo hasn't killed anybody yet.”

Ransom hummed sagely, waving him off. He picked Kent up and began to walk back to the house. 

“So like, you guys do this a lot?” Kent toyed with Ransom’s necklace, eyes glazed over just slightly from the copious amounts of alcohol he'd imbibed. “The parties, I mean.”

“Nah. Bits’ parents are out of town for like a week or so. They trust him, but said the house had to be clean and all the sheets washed before they got back from Montreal.” 

Kent made a thoughtful noise. “Alicia has a runway show in a few days. They’ll have a good time.” 

Ransom looked at Kent, met his eyes and saw the hollowness there. He found all the bits of Jack Zimmermann’s life that got left behind, the parts of the past that Kent couldn't let go. He stopped at the front door, only for a few moments, to pin Kent up against the frame and kiss him again. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The smile Kent gave was genuine, at least. 

Ransom carried Kent upstairs, where they turned into the guest bedroom. 

The bed itself was  _ super  _ nice. Ransom sat down on it, with Kent still in his arms and the taste of him still on his lips. 

“I'm tired,” Kent sighed, curled up in Ransom’s lap. He felt a lot smaller than he looked, his bones against Ransom’s almost fragile. Kent’s eyes were a soft green when he looked up all beseechingly from where he was nuzzled against Ransom’s shoulder. “Kiss me, please?” 

And, like, Ransom was a bro. He wasn't the kind of bisexual to hide his interests in both the male and female population of the Earth. But he was, like, a bro about it. He could totally kiss Kent Parson and not make it weird. Prettiest dude Ransom had ever seen, but it was no big deal. He cupped Kent’s face in his hand and laid one on him. 

It was nice, the kissing. Ransom had always loved how much he could find out about a person through how they kissed. 

Kent arched up into his chest, like there was too much space between their bodies and he needed to fill whatever void was left with himself. He kissed greedily, almost feeding at Ransom’s mouth with all the desperation of a man starved of touch. That was the first new thing Ransom learned about Parse that weekend; he was cripplingly, terrifyingly lonely, and barely holding it together.

Ransom decided to explore, a bit. He ran the tip of his tongue over Kent’s bottom lip, feather-light and painstakingly gentle. “Relax,” he suggested when Kent stiffened.  “I have you tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Kent bit his lip right after he spoke and closed his eyes tight. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything. I didn’t say that.” 

“You did say that.” Ransom tugged at the soft hair at the base of Kent’s neck. “I definitely heard you say that. We’ll reserve judgement for Holster, but I think he likes you alright.”

The furrow between Kent’s eyebrows smoothed out. “I’m not used to this.” He gestured at all of Ransom, which was a little squicky, but Kent backtracked  _ real fast  _ when Ransom gave him the hairy eyeball. “I mean talking! Like, actually talking to people when I’m being intimate with them. No one really gives me a chance to enjoy taking things slow. They usually just want a quick fuck with an NHL player.” Swallowing, Kent scrubbed at the corner of his eye with his wrist. “I’m good at giving people what they want.”

Before Ransom could touch that whole mess with a ten foot pole, Holster slipped into the room with the quiet shush-click of the door closing behind him. “Everybody’s escaped to their respective niches for the night,” he announced, pulling his glasses off and setting them on a bookshelf. “I brought Wild Turkey if anybody needs some liquid courage.” 

“Courage? What if we’ve had our hands down each other’s pants for for twenty minutes? What if we started without you?” Ransom let Kent hide his face in the curve of his neck. “It's Parser’s birthday, Holster. I think he deserves to get laid properly.”

“You're incorrigible,” Holster replied. “Zero out of ten would not recommend.” 

Ransom buried a kiss into Kent’s hair, eyes twinkling as he met Holster’s gaze. “That's almost hurtful, but I've also seen you naked, so it's like sticks and stones, baby.” 

Holster crawled onto the bed, weight dipping the mattress low as he kissed Ransom in greeting, then cupped Kent’s face in his palm and kissed him, too. “I figure it's your party, sweetheart. We do what you wanna do.”

Kent gasped when Ransom grabbed his hips and ground against him. “I-I wanna get my mouth on you.” He swallowed, seemingly settling into his own skin and steeling his courage. A bit of the Parse Ransom typically saw on the ice flickered in Kent’s pretty green eyes, and all of a sudden, Ransom was watching him slip down to get between Holster’s parted thighs. 

\---

Kent licked the swell of his bottom lip, mouth watering as Holster unzipped his pants and reached in to squeeze himself through his boxers. 

“Anybody ever tell you how good you look on your knees?” Ransom asked, helping Holster shimmy his boxers down with his jeans around his thighs. All three watched as Holster’s cock snapped back up to his belly when it was freed, causing Kent to squirm excitedly when he found out the size of what he was working with.

Kent was greedy. He wasted exactly zero seconds getting Holster’s fat dick in his mouth, a soft sigh of happiness escaping him when he felt Ransom’s hand come down to cradle the side of his face. 

“So here’s the thing, bro,” Ransom said, shifting to sit next to Holster on the edge of the bed. “You’re gonna suck Holtzy here off, and I’m gonna tell you how pretty you look doing it.” 

Holster bucked his hips up, testing the waters, and Kent took pride in the way he didn’t even gag a little bit. 

“Holy shit, Rans. I think we might have found my new favorite way to blow off steam.”

Humming as if to concur, Ransom smoothed his fingers through Kent’s curls. “As in, fucking Stanley Cup Champion Kent Parson’s face and telling him that he looks like a goddamn wet dream? It’s definitely something special to watch.”

Kent shivered. He braced his hands on Holster’s hips and met his eyes before swallowing  _ every single inch  _ of him. Stanley Cup Champion Kent Parson did not cut corners.

“Ohhh, oh my Jesus God,” Holster sighed, fisting the sheets and beginning to flush pink. “Yep, we’re definitely gonna have to keep him.”

Ransom watched Kent swallow thickly around the length of Holster’s cock down his throat, expression mesmerized. “You’re the prettiest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he told Kent. “On your knees like this, Kent, you look gorgeous.” 

This was the part where Kent usually just went to town. He’d get so messy sucking someone’s dick he’d wind up with spit and cum and tears everywhere, but right here, with Holster shaking like a leaf above him, and Ransom’s voice sending shivers down his spine, there was no real place he’d rather be. 

“Come on, baby, it’s okay. You’re doin’ so well already; I know you can make Holster feel real good like this.” Ransom stroked his thumb over the curve of Kent’s jaw. “Let him cum in your mouth, and I'll fuck you, sweets; I'll make it all better.” 

Kent’s eyelashes fluttered. He could feel his own cock throbbing between his legs, and he wanted it  _ so badly _ his chest hurt. So, he pulled out all the stops anyways, but for an entirely separate reason. He  _ wanted  _ Holster to come for him. Kent wanted to do that, wanted to make Holster fall apart for no reason other than that he was a really nice guy with a big, pretty cock, and it felt nice to have a nice guy with a big dick pay attention to him. 

“Yeah, yeah, God,  _ look at you _ , you're a fucking mess, Kent, you're so goddamn pretty. There’s my good boy.” Ransom kicked out of his own pants, and Kent wanted to cry a little bit because of how happy he was. 

When Holster came, it was a bit of a surprise, but Kent wasn't the kind of person to get mad about swallowing. 

Holster patted his cheek and flopped back on the bed, looking gobsmacked. 

“Completely useless.” Ransom was already slicking his fingers when he pulled Kent up on the bed as well, and began to finger him open just as soon as he hitched one of Kent’s legs over his shoulder. 

Holster managed to sit up against the headboard, and when Ransom was finished with the prep, he pulled Kent up against his chest and held him up by his thighs while Ransom rolled on a condom and pushed into him. “He feels good, huh?” Holster asked, like Kent wasn't struggling to breathe normally from the sheer, blissful feeling of being so utterly completed. 

“I'm seriously not gonna last,” Ransom warned, catching Kent’s mouth in a series of sweet little kisses. “I'm gonna fuckin’ come inside of you, but I wanna see you get there first.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, birthday boy. We have you.” Holster nosed against Kent’s ear and kept him in the same place, held him so that Ransom could hit the perfect angle. It was so good, it was so fucking good, like this. Kent couldn't believe where he was at. 

Kent fell apart against Holster’s chest. He wanted to let Ransom keep going, really, because it felt so fucking good his nerves were sparkling with adrenaline, but it was  _ so much _ . “Please, please,  _ Justin _ ,  _ please _ ,” he begged. 

Luckily, Ransom didn't take long to come either. He smeared his fingers through the mess of cum on Kent’s belly and reached up to have him suck them clean. “We are going to keep you for _ ever _ ,” he promised Kent, leaning up to kiss Holster. 

_ Please do _ , Kent thought.  _ Please don't let me go. _

Holster wound up cleaning everyone off, and Kent might have just all at once irrationally fell in love with him. Mostly because he was really big and he smelled good and when Kent asked him to just press his fingers into the raw slickness of Kent’s used up little hole for a minute, he did so without question. 

“Mm,” Ransom sighed, pulling Kent close into his chest when Holster finally gave him up. “So, top five birthdays, eh?” 

Kent didn't settle until Holster pressed up against his back. He felt nice and needed and adored. “At least second place. We’ve still got two more days.”

“Goddamn,” interjected Holster. “Two more days might actually kill me.”

Chuckling, Kent just closed his eyes and let his mind drift off to the sound of Ransom’s soft breath and Holster’s snores. 

**Author's Note:**

> OK THANKS I HOPE U ENJOYED THE RIDE  
> LEAVE A COMMENT AND MAKE MY DAY KTHNXBAI


End file.
